


How John Watson came home

by Danagirl623



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:50:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danagirl623/pseuds/Danagirl623
Summary: I couldn't find a good parentlock fic so I wrote one.





	1. Chapter 1

Sherlock. I’m on the edge. Come immediately if convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway. 11:32 pm

  
A knock on the door less than 5 minutes later didn’t surprise John. Sherlock came in softly and hung up his Belstaff. John eyed him with the practiced eye of a doctor.

  
“Have you been using?”

  
“No, John.” Sherlock responded, sounding bored.

  
“Imbibing?”

  
“No.”

  
“Smoking?”

  
“No, John.” Sherlock pulled up his sleeve to show the patch there. “I’m on the wagon, per your request.”

  
John handed Rosie over to Sherlock. Her screams enveloped the two adults, and they hung there. John slipped his coat on, and headed out to the door. “I have my phone.”

  
“221B Baker Street is waiting for you. John, why don’t you come home?”

  
“Call me if you need me.” John nodded, ignoring Sherlock’s words.

  
John left the apartment. He needed to talk himself off the ledge. Walking helped. The cold night air helped. Seeing the ease in which Sherlock handled his daughter did not help. John knew it was important that someone else could care for Rosie. Now that Mary was dead. It didn’t help that John wanted Mary back. He did still love her in his way. Sherlock always tried to tell everyone that he was a cold, calculating scientist, but John was a deadened soldier who only cared because as a doctor, it was expected. Sometimes he understood Sherlock better than anyone else.

 

  
As soon as John left the apartment, Rosie settled into Sherlock’s chest and calmed down instantly. Sherlock hummed to her, his brain composing Rosie a new lullaby. Sherlock rocked and swayed with the calmed toddler for hours. He used two hands to support her. His mind was grinding away on a cold case after he stopped composing.

  
John was surprised when he walked in the kitchen just before dawn to see Sherlock still craddling Rosie as he waltzed around the room.

  
“Sherlock, have you been moving this whole time?”

  
Sherlock blinked, “Oh clever!”

  
“Sherlock.” John said, with more force.

  
“Oh, hello, John!” Sherlock smiled a real smile. Large, beaming. John frowned. “Why don’t you go to bed? I’ve got her.”

  
“She has preschool today.”

  
“Ok.” Sherlock nodded. “8 am to 3 pm. Cherry street. I’ll pack a bag.”

  
“I’m off today.”

  
“Noted.”

  
“So I’ll pick her up.” John said, then looked Sherlock over. “Don’t you have a case to solve?”

  
“I’ve solved 4 so far.”

  
“Today?”

  
“Since I saw you last.” Sherlock confirmed with a nod. “Rosie’s an excellent assistant.”

  
“Well.” John said, hands on his hips at a lost what to do. “Fancy a cuppa?”

  
“Excellent idea.” Sherlock said.

  
John got to making tea. This was a task he could handle. He could control the actions and most importantly, it was calming.

  
When the kettle was boiled, and John had the tea brewing. He joined Sherlock in the living room. Sherlock sat down in the rocking chair while John relaxed into the couch. “John, you should be sleeping. I’ve read many articles stating the first three years of a child’s life-”

  
“Mate.” John sighed, cutting into Sherlock’s thought. Something he’d never have done a year ago when Mary was alive. Now that she was gone, he felt a bit wild. A bit out of his normal control. “I’m a doctor. I know the stats.”

  
Sherlock nodded, rocking Rosie in one hand and sipping tea in the other. “John, come home to baker street.”

  
“You once told me that you were a horrible roommate and you weren’t lying. I can’t subject Rosie to that. You leave science experiments all over the kitchen. You don’t eat for days. You leave the flat unlocked when you leave it.”

  
Sherlock didn’t speak for a moment. He was replaying data in his mind to support John’s words. “So how about 221c?”

  
“The mold, Sherlock. Deadlier than you, I believe.”

  
“I can fix the mold.”

  
“You can fix it? How?” John inquired sharply. He placed his tea down carefully to fix Sherlock with a “I’m listening so you better tell the truth” look.

  
“I will hire a guy and move my lab down there. Part of 221C is on the same floor as my room. We can knock the wall out and make Rosie her own room. I’ll move to the attic. You can take my room. The Watsons will have the run of 221B as they always should have.”

  
“Why?” John asked, angrily. If he cared, and let’s be honest this was Sherlock who was a SCIENTIST first, and everything else second, they were entering new territory. There was no guide map for this. So John resorted to anger first as with everything new with Sherlock.

  
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sherlock scoffed.

  
“No, not to me it isn’t.” John said. “Why would I want to return to this? Implying I’m an imbecile all day-”

  
“You belong at 221B Baker Street. That is your home, John Watson.”

  
John sighed, the anger melting. It was about feelings this conversation, then. “Therefore, by that logic, you are also my home.” John hated the way he couldn’t keep the pleading out of his voice.

  
“I suppose as I am the very heart of Baker street, then yes John I am your home too.”

  
“Sherlock Holmes.” John said, sternly looking him over. “Give me a straight answer. Why should I leave my daughter’s home, my apartment, to move into your dirty hovel?”

  
Sherlock ignored the “hovel” comment.

Sherlock stared down at Rosie’s sleeping figure. Her light blonde curls glistening in the early morning light. When Sherlock did speak, his voice was low and slow as if he was choosing his words precisely. “I miss you John Watson. I miss seeing you first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I want to be the one that sees, and aids in, Rosie’s growth. I want to-”

  
“For now, this is what you want. What happens when you get bored?”

  
“I won’t get bored!” Sherlock tried to protest.

  
“Oh, you will. You do!” John said, matter of factly. “What happens then? You use?”

  
“Absolutely not!” Sherlock sneered. “I have a sponsor.”

  
“And when that fails?” John’s anger was back. “Because it will fail. You will grow bored or craving and you will fail again.”

  
“It-” Sherlock started, frustrated at John’s anger. John had always believed him, and he wasn’t use to have to defend himself against John. “I won’t fail, John. You know my mind better than anyone else. You know how singular I am. You know that I have an addictive mind when idle. When you and Rosie are near, my head quiets. It’s easier to be… More… Better. It’s just easier.”

  
John took a moment to roll Sherlock’s words around his head. “You are not my responsibility anymore. That dear girl in your arms is the most important thing to me. When she cries, I am there. When she needs, I provide. When she wants something, Daddy gets it.”

  
“You can do that at Baker Street.”

  
“Not with your issues!” John interrupted him again, anger flaring.

  
“My dear blogger once told me to go out and find someone who makes me a better man.” Sherlock paused to kiss Rosie’s curls. “I found him years ago and I denied myself what I could have. So I’m making myself get better. I’m attending narcotics anonymous. I go to counseling. I have even went grocery shopping. John Watson, I am trying to be a better man so you’ll notice my worth and come home to Baker Street. I want to spend my days with you and Rosie. I want to spend my nights exploring you. I will settle down and stop solving murders” Sherlock paused here, almost regretting saying it. He wouldn’t regret it though, especially if it brought John home.

“I will stop solving murders to spend my life with you. So come home to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson misses you and honestly, the skull hasn’t been the same since you left.” He threw the skull comment out there trying to make John laugh.

“Well, I should come back for the skull’s sake.” John laughed. It reminded John of that first crime scene. Giggling at such an inappropriate time.

  
Sherlock smiled back. He felt like a cat basking in a sun beam when John smiled. “The skull. The consulting detective has been very busy getting his life together so his blogger will come home. I mean, what is a consulting detective without his blogger?”

  
“Well, generally bored.” John laughed, again. His anger gone. He felt better than he had in months, really. “Another cuppa?”

  
“I’ll make it.” Sherlock said, easing himself up still snuggling Rosie. He edged Rosie over into her father’s arms.

 

Sherlock snagged the two tea cups on his way out ot the kitchen. Sherlock made the tea, navigating easily around John’s kitchen. When Sherlock came back in with the tea, John was dead asleep.

  
Sherlock placed John’s cup on the coffee table and scooped up Rosie. She yawned and stretched her tiny body out. Her eyes opened and her lips grinned. She reached out to grab one of Sherlock’s messy curls. Sherlock stuck his tongue out at her just to see her giggle.

  
“Let’s let John sleep. I deduce you are hungry wee Watson.” Sherlock went into the kitchen and started making breakfast for Rosie. Sherlock knew that John wasn’t saying yes just yet but he would. Sherlock would bet his belstaff on it. Beside, all those emotions he shared with John. He’d said words he had deeply hidden in his mind palace and vowed to never focus on them.

  
While he fed John’s daughter, he told her all about what he planned to do with her. He told her about the bees he wanted to raise, the museums he’d take her to, and all the concerts they’d attend. As he walked her to school, he told her all about the schools she’d attend once she was larger. He dropped her off and headed back to John’s apartment the long way round.

 

When Sherlock walked in the apartment, John was awake and ready to talk.

“Hello Sherlock. You came back.”

  
“I did, indeed.” Sherlock nodded.

  
“Kettle’s warm, if you want another cuppa.”

  
“No thank you.” John gave a look of surprise at the manners. “I had my second when you were asleep.” Sherlocked refused, politely, before sitting down next to John. Not too close, but not far enough away to be considered normal.

  
“Thank you for your help last night. It could have ended poorly.”

  
“Not a problem, John.”

  
“Sherlock, if we move home to Baker Street, I need something more than an empty promise. I need proof.” John said, placing his cup down. He turned to study Sherlock’s face. “I propose we call a lawyer and have them draft a legal document regarding my return to Baker Street. I need you to sign it and we need to hand it up. I need you to see that promise everyday and live it.”

  
“I’ll contact Mycroft. He’ll have the perfect lawyer. I’ll also start the construction on the apartment.”

  
“Sherlock, I want to believe you. I want to be home. Last time I put my faith in you, you took two years to deliver on it.”

  
Sherlock nodded, turning his body to face John. “I left for two years to make you safe. Moriarty was going to kill you. I apologize for my lack in faith of you-”

  
“Sherlock!” John chided, gently. “You believe in science.”

  
“I have always believed in you, John Watson. Science is typically easier to prove than you and your ways.” Sherlock smiled. “I want you back at Baker Street. I will make whatever vow I need to make so you see how serious I am. You know, John. It is what Mary wanted.”

John nodded. “When I-” John cut himself off, and took a moment. “If I move back to Baker Street, in what context will it be?”

  
Sherlock knew what it meant, but he had to clarify. “What context would you prefer?”

  
“Jesus, Sherlock. Are you flirting?” John laughed. “You’re flirting!”

  
“I have picked up a few of your tricks.”

  
John smiled at the flattery. “What I want and who you are are two different things.”

  
“What do you want?”

  
“I want a spouse. I want a partner. Someone who I can call and say “help!” I want someone who isn’t going to get wrapped up in an experiment and forget our daughter. I want someone sexy and smart. I want someone to grow up with and-God! Not just old, but fat! I hate the gym. I want to do some good. I want to raise Rosie to be a good woman. I need someone human.”

  
“I guess I have some work to do.” Sherlock said, evenly. “I want you as my lover, my friend, my blogger, and mine.”

  
“But I’m not gay!” John stuttered.

  
“Do you mind if I reason a loud?” Sherlock asked. John nodded. Sherlock would never have asked in the past. He would have assumed that it was ok for him to deduct before. Maybe he was changing.

 

“You are not gay. You completely enjoy women, but you are intrigued by me. You want to try me. I’ve seen you in the past, John. your pupils dilate and you lick your lips. Somewhere in your mind, you’ve thought dirty things about me. While you completely loved Mary, you also love me, but it’s hard for you to accept. You can’t accept it because you aren’t gay. You’re organized. It’s easy to label things to deal with them, but this thing we’ve got is somehow more than friendship, but not active lovers. So it’s not easy to label. You can’t just be my John because that’s an incomplete label. You can’t just be my friend. You’d like to be my lover, but that makes you gay.” Sherlock held up his finger to ask John to pause his thought. “In our world, things are simpler when it’s black or white. Slowly our world is becoming more gray than before. Men in general don’t excite you the way women have in the past. Just one man. Me. So why can’t we living in a grayer world than previously? Why can’t we just be Sherlock and John in a relationship? We’ve got the other relationship stuff down. So it will be easier to get the sexual side down.”

 

“We’ve hardly mastered the “other relationship stuff”” John said, looking at him. He grinned. “I don’t know, Holmes.” John was jocular and teasing. This was a very big change from his anger from earlier. “I was under the assumption you were asexual.”

  
“A sexual fiend!” Sherlock tried to joke, but groaned at the terrible joke. John guffawed loudly. “No. I just have a very particular niche I enjoy.”

  
“Which is?”

  
“An invalided ex-army doctor with light hair and blue eyes.”

  
“Huh.” John smiled, running his hand through his short hair. “Tell me about him. You know, I might get jealous.”

  
“He’s clever. He’s nice. He’s a dad. He’s cute.”

  
“Mmm. Sounds like a tosser to me.”

  
“I must not be describing him correctly then.” Sherlock said, laying his hands on John’s thighs. “I’ve read about sex. I didn’t store any of it in the mind palace of course.”

  
“Hey it’s ok! I’m not gay. We can figure it out.” John said. “I want to come back to Baker Street. I was happier there than I’ve been, including Mary, but I know you. I know what kind of self-destructive aresehole you are. I need stability in my life. Rosie deserves it.”

  
“I’m changing John. I’m becoming more human.” Sherlock said. It didn’t taste funny in his mouth like he thought it would. “Mycroft hates it.”

  
“I could never ask you to actually give up crime. Maybe when you convert C to your lab, you can add an office so Rosie’s safe. We can’t have strangers in and out of 221 B.”

  
“I can do that.”

  
“Have you talked to Mrs. Hudson?”

  
Sherlock cleared his throat. “She caught me one day leaving a site. She gave me a ride home. The entire way she told me off about- Everything. How I left you for two years. How I’m arrogant prick.”

  
“You are.”

  
“She told me about how I ruined your life and you married Mary in spite of me.”

  
“Ta, Mrs. Hudson!” John grinned.

  
Sherlock groaned, but smiled. “So do you love me?”

  
“Yes.” John said, warmly, leaning forward to be closer to Sherlock. “But, I need to take this slowly. We need to get ourselves better. I’m still having nightmares. Violent ones. When I sleep… If I sleep. The surgery is going to can me any day now because I am a bad employee. I keep going to Ella, but I can’t fuck you up Sherlock. You mean more to me than air and-” John cut himself off, changing his thought mid-sentence. “Adding a sexual component. It’s hard, but worth it.” John placed his hands on Sherlocks, and started to lean in for a kiss.

  
Sherlock’s phone rang, interrupting what would have been their first kiss. “Lestrade.” Sherlock said, answering it. He listened intently. “Just send me photos. I’m in the middle of something important.”

  
“Sherlock. Go.” John said, pushing him with his hands. “We’ve got time.”

  
“No John. I’m here.” Sherlock said. “Greg, I’m busy. Just send me photos.” Insisting.

Sherlock wanted to be here. Sherlock laced his fingers with John’s.

  
“Are you with John?” Greg asked.

  
“Yes.”  
“Are you two fucking yet?”

  
Sherlock hung up the phone. John gave a “wow, Greg” sort of look.” Sherlock grinned, sheepishly. A look that quite suited him, although John was sure he’d deny the look if it was mentioned. “He’s actually really helpful. He also told me off for hurting you, I didn’t listen to him. I wasn’t ready. I am now.” Sherlock looked at their entwined hands. He wanted this for a very long time. If he had allowed himself to let John into his mind palace, John would have his very own castle by now.

  
“Why are you such a stubborn arse?” John asked, smirking.

  
“You’re one to talk!” Sherlock accused. “You won’t return to Baker Street without your demands.”

  
“You understand why I have to be a diva about this? It’s important.” John squeezed Sherlock’s hands. “I used to parent you. I can’t parent you and Rosie and put myself back together.”

  
“I have charts up, John.”

  
“Like sticker charts?”

  
“Yes.” Sherlocked nodded with a smile. “They are efficient ways to collect data. Did you know I’m far more likely to eat breakfast if I’ve slept the night before?”

  
John gave a “what do you reckon?” look. “Have you eaten today?”

  
“I have not. Can I cook you a grilled cheese sandwich?”

  
“Please. I would enjoy that.” John sighed, leaning back on the couch. He felt all of his 43 years weigh on him. “Sherlock!” he called. “Do you think it’ll get better?”

  
“Precise language John!”

  
“Do you think life gets better?” John asked, pondering it himself.

  
“No,John. Only shittier. Grayer.” he responded as he very carefully flipped the sandwiches.

  
“Thank you.” John said, coming into his own kitchen. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s lithe body. John breathed deeply, feeling calmer. “You have no idea how much I want to believe in you.”

  
“John.” Sherlock’s deep voice rumbled through John’s chest. “I want to prove it to you that I am someone to be believed in.” Sherlock stayed focused on his cooking, ignoring John’s warmth. He wanted nothing to melt into his arms.

  
“Last night was a good start.” John stated, feeling Sherlock’s body try to melt into him.

  
“Last night was good luck.” Sherlock smiled. “I was leaving Mycroft’s. So I was close. When you move in, I’ll be even closer.”

  
“Have you talked to Mycroft yet?” John asked releasing Sherlock to sit at the table.

  
“Not yet.” Sherlock smiled, removing the two sandwiches from the heat. “Are you giving me permission to?”

  
“Yes! The sooner we get back to Baker Street the better.” John smiled as he looked over his sandwich. “This is the first time you ever cooked for me.”

  
“Well,” Sherlock promised with a grin. “I vow it won’t be the last time.”


	2. Chapter 2

Things moved quickly after that conversation.

Construction started by the end of the week. John invited Sherlock to move into his apartment until the construction ceased. Mrs. Hudson went to her sister’s. John relaxed a bit with junkie Sherlock being around his toddler. He still made sure Sherlock was sober, even abstaining from alcohol himself.

  
He was let go from the surgery, but the sting wasn’t as keen as he thought it would be. Especially since Mike Stamford contacted him about a teaching position. Sherlock still solved crime, but only when it fit John’s life. If he had Rosie, he’d request pictures, and rarely look at them. Caring for Rosie made it easier to care for himself. Make mini pancakes for Rosie, make a few large ones for him and John. Oh, Rosie’s napping? He should too. True to his word, Sherlock started the field trips early in Rosie’s life. Sherlock purchased several new science toys for her including stuffed bacteria, virus, and cells.

  
John and Sherlock’s meeting with the lawyer ended well. Sherlock was true to his word and hung up a copy in Baker street.

  
Construction concluded quickly, but those 2 months were very long for John. He was starting a new job which was scary, but exciting. John often wondered if the construction ended because of Mycroft’s influence. Truth, the sooner they got to Baker Street, the sooner John and Sherlock could truthfully start their life together, the better.  
The new apartment was stylishly decorated. It was beautiful to John, but he was sure that to Mycroft it was a slum. Sherlock tried to give up his room, but John told him that didn’t make sense. John took the new addition from C giving Rosie the attic space.

  
“After all, little girls do grow up one day.” John had said.

  
“I shudder to think what a grown Watson woman can do.”

  
John kissed Sherlock carefully, then turned back to Rosie, who was wildly shaking her wooden atom model. “Tell your father to let it go.”

  
Rosie giggled, saying “Dada!” over and over.

  
“Is that me or you?” Sherlock inquired, looking at John. They were back at Baker Street and finally, finally!, Sherlock’s heart felt like it was home.

  
“Me obviously. You’re papa!”

  
“Why aren’t you papa?”

  
“Birth dad! I make the rules.” John smiled, leaving over for another kiss. Sherlock complied. It was a sweet kiss, gentle and kind.

  
“John, could I adopt Rosie? I mean, Mary will always be her mom, but I care for her like a parent.”

  
“Precise language, Sherl.” John teased, leaning in for another kiss. “Are you asking permission or inquiring about the legality of it?”

  
“Permission.” Sherlock smiled, savoring how sweet John’s kisses were.

  
“Yes, please!” John said, looking at Rosie. “How would you like that, little Ms. Watson? Should Sherlock be your legal papa?”

  
Rosie clapped her hands together, “Papa! Dada!”

  
“Good choice!” Sherlock smiled, leaning in seriously to speak to Rosie.”Now, Ms. Rosamund, do you think I should marry your father?” Rosie babbled an intelligible response. “It’s good you agree because I’m crazy for John Watson.” Sherlock smiled, tickling her.

  
“Sherlock!” John exhaled. “Marriage is serious.”

  
“John, we’re already married without the paper. I’m simply proposing we get a piece of paper.” Sherlock waved his hand, airily.

  
“Oh! Mrs. H would die. And your mother!”

John insisted. “Mrs. Holmes-”

  
“Mum.” Sherlock insisted. “You know she hates when you call her Mrs. Holmes.”

  
“Would die if we left her out!”

  
“I don’t want a wedding, John. I want a marriage.” Sherlock whined. He was so different from the man John first met in many ways, but yet, not so different at all. The whining was still here all these years later.

  
“I’m not changing my name.”

  
“I’m not!” Sherlock protested. He was a Holmes damn it.

  
“You should! William Sherlock Scott Watson! It’s sexy! It bloody suits you!”

  
“I’m Sherlock bloody Holmes. You’re Dr. John Hamish Watson. Marriage will not change that.”

  
“I am in love with you.” John mused, watching Sherlock with lust in his eyes. “Ok. I’ll marry you, but the contract still stands.”

  
“Naturally.” Sherlock picking up Rosie to tickle her. “Did you hear that, smart girl? John said yes!”

  
John chuckled, and kissed Sherlock’s cheek. “Did you expect me to say no.”

  
“It was always an option.” Sherlock admitted. Nervously Sherlock added, “I’m not marrying you to get laid.” True to his word, John took it at a glacial pace. He was doing this relationship thing right with Sherlock.

  
“I never thought that.”

  
“You're so good, John Watson. What did I do to deserve you?”

  
“You saved my life from Moriarty, Eurus, boredom, from the pistol, from myself.”

  
“John, you’ve saved me from our first case.” Sherlock said, kissing Rosie’s sweet smelling head. “It seems like we have a habit of saving each other.”

  
“Like the Doctor and River!” John enthused, with a grin. Sherlock snuggled into his arms, with a groan.

 

A knock on the apartment door interrupted the snuggle. John stood up and opened the door. The person on the other side of the door was Mycroft and John fought the impulse to slam the door in his face.

 

“Good afternoon, Doctor. May I come in?” He smiled. It was meant to be kindly, but it was more of a grimace than grin.

  
“Sherlock, your brother is here.” John announced, stepping away from the door. The Eurus sting was still too fresh for John to be civil. He flounced back on the couch without answering Mycroft. Sherlock walked over to the door, making funny faces at Rosie the whole time. She continued to babble happily and wave her Atom model.

  
“Look who’s here, Rosie Watson.” Sherlock said haughtily. “The great god Mycroft Holmes deigns to visit the peasants on Baker Street. What can I do to please you, oh great deity?”  
“Sherlock, you requested my assistance.” Mycroft said irritably.

  
“Yes, but I didn’t ask you to actually come here. I expected a phone call which you must have known so you choose to annoy us with your presence.”

  
“What was so important for the Great Consulting Detective to actually consult his lowly brother?”

  
“I merely need you to use some of your mostly useless connections. I have need of a justice of peace.”

 

“A what?”

  
“Leave.” Sherlock said, snarling. He bounced Rosie, hoping she wasn’t picking up on his mood. “You know I loathe repeating myself.”

  
“I heard your request. I don’t understand why you need a justice.”

  
“John and I wish to wed.”

  
“What?” Mycroft laughed at the idea.

“Sherlock Holmes wants to marry?”

  
“Mycroft.” Sherlock hissed. “You are exceeding the limits of my patience. Do think before you speak or I shall tell Mummy on you.”

 

“Sherlock, my dear…. Chromonasal sharer, may I have a word with you in private?”

  
Sherlock glared at him. “Why? So you can insult my choice of spouse? Or my intelligence when you run out of disparaging comments about John.Or will it be to remind me that caring is not an asset.”

  
At that moment, Rosie threw her model atom at Mycroft’s face hitting him square in the nose. She then laid her head on Sherlock’s shoulder, and sighed happily.

  
“What a good girl!” John praised his daughter, watching in glee as Mycroft’s nose gushed blood. “Do try not to get blood on the peasants’ floors. It’s the maid’s day off and I don’t fancy cleaning your blood up.” John smirked. Sherlock looked at his future husband with pride.

  
“I do enjoy seeing you on your hands and knees, John.” Sherlock flirted. He turned to his brother just in time to see a look of utter disgust shudder through him.

  
“I will text you the details.” Mycroft spat out, before he turned on his heel and left.

  
“What a good daughter we have John!” Sherlock crowed, proudly.

  
John smiled as Sherlock continue to crow and bounce Rosie. He tried to fight back happy tears. “Sherlock, please place Rosie in her playpen and come over here.” A naughty mood struck John.

  
Sherlock caught his eye, and did as requested. “Rosie, be a clever girl and occupy yourself for a moment.” Rosie grabbed her egg and sperm stuffed animals. She waved them about and talked to them. Sherlock came over to John and found himself in a large embrace. Sherlock hugged back unsure why he was getting a hug.

  
“You impossible man!” John declared. “Just when I think you can’t surprise me anymore, you do! While Mycroft does love you, in his way, you deserve better than his vitriol.”

  
“God damn!” Sherlock exclaimed. “I love when you seduce me with your words.” Sherlock tilted John’s head up to see his eyes. “The “better” you spoke of is because you love me.” Sherlock said, plainly.

  
John had no response except to place his lips on Sherlock’s. The kiss started sweet, but ended with Sherlock’s lips slightly bruised and bloody. John’s passion was burning through him and he had a hard time containing it. Slowly Watson. He reminded himself.

  
“Why do you always stop when I’m enjoying your kisses?” Sherlock pouted, running his hands up the back of John’s shirt. Every chance he got, he put his skin against John’s.

  
“We’re taking it slow.” John reminded him. “You deserve perfection.”

  
A text interrupted them. “Saturday at noon. MH” Sherlock read aloud. “Can we have a party afterwards?” he threw his phone down, and returned his hands to John’s back.

  
“Of course! We’ll have your parents, Harry, Mrs. H, Molly, and Greg over for lunch. We’ll surprise them.”

  
“We’ll need a witness.” Sherlock mused, placing his lips on John’s jaw. Gently he nibbled along it. “Stamford? Mycroft?” He asked in between bites. John was breathing heavily, but pushed him away.

  
“I guess Mycroft’ll do.”

  
“Will you allow him in the apartment?” Sherlock teased, as John knit his eyebrows together. Sherlock kissed the knitted brows, and John softened under his lips.

  
“I may be ok with him by then, but Rosie. She doesn’t forgive. She’ll be the final judge.”

  
Suddenly a thought occurred to Sherlock. John had the pleasure of seeing an idea dawn on him and come right out of his mouth. One he had seen many times before while Sherlock was deducting. This time, the idea caught him by surprise. “May I please take you and Ms. Rosamund away for a vacation? It is customary for the grooms to disappear for a few days post wedding.”

  
John smiled, but shook his head kindly. “No, my love. I’d like to have you all to myself for a few days. I’ll call Molly to see if she can take Rosie for a few days.”

  
“Why would you want me to yourself?” Sherlock asked, confused.

  
“Sex, Sherlock.” John said.

 

Sherlock flushed crimson. John giggled as he text his sister to come for lunch on Saturday at 1 pm, then texted Mike if he could help him out. Mike readily agreed once he knew it was for the Holmes-Watson wedding. John ignored the “finally” at the end of his final text from Mike. He called Molly while Sherlock texted invites to her and Greg to come for lunch.

  
“Hi Molly!” John smiled, as she picked up.

  
“Hi!” she said, with a big smile. “How’s Baker Street? Do you feel home?”

  
“Baker street’s great.” John said, carefully. “Do you think you could take a few days off and take Rosie off my hands?”

  
“Oh, sure! When did you want me to pick her up?”

  
“Saturday evening?”

  
“Oh, after the lunch thing Sherlock said about?”

  
“Yes.” John responded.

  
“Gladly. I’ll see you on Saturday.” She said, then added just before she hung up, “are you and Sherlock dating?”

  
“Good bye, Molly Hooper.” John sighed, hanging up. “Ok, love.” John said, picking up Rosie. “We have some errands to run.”

  
“Like what?”

  
“Suits. Food tasting.”

  
Sherlock ushered John out of the apartment, and tilted his head towards Mrs. Hudson’s apartment. “Do you think she’d be our witness with Mike?”

  
“Why don’t you ask her to do it?” John smiled. “Something like that should come from you.”  
Sherlock nodded, steeling himself before he knocked on her door. Sherlock poked his head in and said, “Mrs H?”

  
“Oh, Sherlock!” She exclaimed happily. Then saw John holding Rosie. “And John! Hello my love!” She cooed at the toddler who waved her reproductive toys in response. “Fancy a cuppa?”

  
“Oh, no, thank you, Mrs. H.” John smiled.

“Sherlock has two favors he’d like to ask of you. That is if they aren’t too taxing.”

  
“If you’d be so kind, Mrs. Hudson, John and I have a few errands to run this afternoon and we were hoping you’d watch Rosie.”

  
“Of course! I’ve been missing my girl since well for a while!”

  
“The other favor we are going to ask of you… Well,” Sherlock reached over and took John’s hand. “John has agreed to become my husband and we’d like you to be our witness.”

  
“Pardon?” She asked in surprise.

  
“John is dumb enough to marry me and we’d like you to witness it.”

  
“Sherlock Holmes. Is this your idea of a joke?”

  
“No, Mrs. H. We’re having it at our home at noon on Saturday. Very small affair. Just John, myself, you, and Stamford.”

  
“Is this a real thing? Am I having a stroke?”

  
“Mrs. Hudson, I am marrying John.” Sherlock said, as John snuggled into Sherlock’s arms.  
“If you are lying to me-” she started again.  
“Then believe me, Mrs. Hudson.” John cut in, sounding very much like a practiced doctor reassuring a new mother. “I am marrying Sherlock. Nothing would make us happier if you would join us in celebrating our new start.”  
Joy was written all over her face. “Oh!” She exclaimed, hugging them both at the same time.  
“But your discretion, please.” John added. “We’re having the ceremony early and having our friends over for 1 for a lunch. We want to have a small do with just us.”  
“Oh, yes!”  
“Will you watch Rosie so we can do some errands?”  
“Yes, yes!” She said, taking Rosie from John. “Go, you silly boys.” she kissed each man’s cheek, before pushing them out of the door.  
“That went well.” John said, pulling Sherlock to the stairs. John pushed Sherlock into a sitting position on the stairs. John joined him. “You’ve done so well, love, but I need you to make one more tough call. Call Mum and Dad.”  
Sherlock nodded, and didn’t argue. He pulled out his phone to face-time his parents. He leaned his head on John’s shoulder. “Hello, Mum!” he greeted when she answered.  
“Hi Mrs. Holmes!” John greeted.  
“Hullo, boys! Daddy and I are at the beach!”  
“Very nice, mummy!” Sherlock said, his cheeks reddening.  
“Daddy! It’s Sherl and John!”  
“Hullo!” he called.  
“What do I owe this pleasure to, Sherly?”  
“John and I are getting married. Will you come celebrate with us?”  
“Oh, Daddy!” Mrs Holmes cried, turning to look at her husband. “Our little boy’s getting married!”  
“Please don’t tell anyone.” John stated, plainly.  
“Baker Street, I presume?” She asked, grinning. “We won’t tell a soul!”  
“Thank you so much.”  
“Ok, Mummy.” Sherlock smiled, still slightly embarrassed. “1 pm, Baker Street. Dress nicely, please.”  
“Oh, my sweet boys. I can’t wait to see you! Goodbye my darling.”  
Typically the pet names were too much for Sherlock, but today they felt appropriate.  
John kissed Sherlock’s temple, sweetly. “You ok, love?”  
“Yes,” Sherlock replied after a moment.  
“Deleting the conversation?” John inquired.  
“Quite the opposite.”  
“Mmm and here I thought that caring wasn’t an asset.” John teased. “Your mum loves you.”  
“And you too.” Sherlock stood up, and pulled John up too. “Come Doctor, the game is on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I wanted to post sooner, but there's only 1 laptop in my house. It's been in use (due to tax season) Something short and sweet.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days flew by. John gave lectures in the morning, then picked up Rosie at home to do a few errands. Around 7 pm, John would be joined by Sherlock and they would put their daughter to bed.  
Sherlock cared for Rosie in the morning, often taking her to his various appointments. His counselor loved seeing Rosie and enjoyed seeing such healthy interactions between father and daughter. In the afternoon, he’d hand Rosie off to John and bury himself in either his lab or some case or updating his website. Around 6 pm, an alarm would sound. He’d end whatever research he was doing, and head for a shower before joining his family upstairs for night time routine.  
The morning of the union dawned bright. John woke up and curled around a pillow missing Sherlock’s arms around him. John had some fanciful notion that it would be better to sleep alone until the union. It was not John’s best idea. He stretched out, listening to Sherlock play his violin. He enjoyed listening to Sherlock play, but when he was playing for their daughter, Sherlock somehow played better.  
Finally, he got up and went out to the living room where he found a cup of coffee and a covered breakfast at his seat. There was an envelope before his plate that had very neat scrawl that said “John Watson” and additional pen marks made by a child. John took a sip of his coffee before opening the card.  
It was a diagram of atoms forming a chain. On the inside it said, “John Hamish Watson, I’m bonded to you. All my love, William Sherlock Scott Holmes” The note was simple but spoke volumes. John grinned as he tucked into breakfast.  
“John? You up?” Sherlock called, coming down the stairs.  
“In the kitchen, love.”  
Sherlock walked into the kitchen, carrying Rosie. He placed her down, before locking the child’s gate to block the upstairs. “That girl loves the violin. I actually may need a nap.”  
“Did you eat?”  
“Yes! While I made yours and Rosamund’s.”  
“Has she bathed?”  
“Yes!” Sherlock smiled, pointing to the completed morning sticker chart.  
“I see you have showered. I wish you would have waited.” John grinned. “I could have joined you.” John faked a large sigh. His eyes caught Rosie playing with her pyramid blocks.  
“John.” Sherlock groaned. “You said no co-showering until tomorrow.”  
“So I did.”  
“Mrs. H should be here within an hour to watch Rosie. Once I’m dressed, I’ll get Ms. Rosamund dressed.” Sherlock said, reviewing the list on the fridge that he made the night before. It read as such:  
Morning ToDo List:  
Bathe (done)  
Wake RW/Change diaper (done)  
Feed JW+RW/ Eat (done)  
Mop kitchen (done)  
Vacuum living (done)  
Groom  
Dress SH  
Style hair SH  
Dress RW  
Style hair RW  
Wait for Noon  
Die of boredom  
Marry John <3  
Celebrate

“Did you confirm the caterer?” Sherlock asked, noticing that John was watching him review his list. Sherlock’s cheek pinkened slightly.  
“Yes my love.”  
“Cake!” Sherlock said. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about! Did you get a cake?”  
“Yes my love.” John smiled at him, seeing his panic.  
“Cake’s the best part! I almost forgot!” Sherlock’s cheeks cleared, then he accused John. “You almost forgot the cake!”  
“Dada! Cake!!” Rosie said, stacking her pyramid blocks the wrong way.  
“Smart girl!” Sherlock complimented her, then turned to John with a worried look. “Do you think Molly will talk baby talk to her? Because I read-”  
“Sherlock.” John warned, finishing his breakfast. “She’s got her own doctorate”  
“I don’t have one, and I’m smarter-.” Sherlock said.  
“You are obviously the dummy of the group.” John teased, standing up to add his dishes to the sink.  
“Ha. Ha.” Sherlock mocked. “You’re marrying me, dolt.”  
“I’ve got a doctorate. What have you got?” John’s phone rang, interrupting what would be a childish reply from Sherlock. “Hey Greg!”  
“Listen, mate. I can’t make it today.”  
“What?” John asked, sharply.  
“I slept with Molly.” Greg started to explain, but didn’t add anymore to that thought.  
“Ok?”  
“I can’t face her! It’s too awkward.”  
“Gregory Lestrade!” John said in his Captain Watson voice. “You will be here for 1 pm. If I have to drag you here.”  
“Geeze. It’s just lunch.”  
John huffed. “No, it’s important to me. You are my mate and therefore it’s important to you.”  
“John! It’s just-”  
“Gregory.” He snarled, “If you say “it’s just lunch” one more time, I will gut you.”  
“Inappropriate!” Sherlock gasped, shielding Rosie’s ears.  
“Ok, fine! I’ll just tell the queen that I’m busy.”  
“Don’t worry! Mycroft will be here!” John said, hanging up the phone. “They know.”  
“They don’t. No one would ruin it.”  
“Your mum.” John said. “She probably let it slip to Myc and he told Greg.”  
“When on earth would Greg and Mycroft be in the same room?”  
“They’re probably banging.” John said, with a smirk.  
Sherlock mimed gagging, and covered Rosie’s ears again. “Fuck you.”  
“With pleasure.” John grinned, then turned back to the sink to work on dishes. “Babe. you should go bathe.”  
“I don’t want to. I’m very grossed out.”  
“Do I need to use my Captain voice?” John asked, as he filled the sink. He sounded careless, but Sherlock got the “I’m not messing around” message he was sending.  
“I’ll go!” Sherlock whined. “Rosie, your dad is mean!”  
“Go!” John encouraged washing dishes.  
The morning passed quietly. The caterers were on time. They were charmed by Rosie. Everyone was, so it was no surprise. Mrs. H was good to her word. She came early to occupy Rosie while her Baker Street boys got ready. Sherlock fussed over his hair. John shaved his face carefully, then ran to his room. He took his time getting dressed, and made sure he looked his best.  
John poked his head out of his room. Sherlock was crouched dressing his daughter. John slipped out and shut the door. He looked at Sherlock and grinned. John eyed his future husband with an appreciative grin. His suit was cut to this body, like every other one he owned. It left nothing to the imagination and John couldn’t wait to remove it. “Let me see her!” John said, walking over to them. Sherlock stepped away from Rosie. She was slaying the Marlene Dietrich look.  
“Mrs. H, come take our picture!”  
“John!” Sherlock breathed. Seeing John in a tailored suit make Sherlock’s mind flip flop. He wasn’t going to last the day without trying to convince John to slip away.  
“You too!” John grinned. He picked up his daughter and snuggled into Sherlock. They all smiled as Mrs. H snapped a photo.  
“Oh, boys!” Mrs. H exclaimed, tearing up.  
“Don’t you dare start crying!” Sherlock said, with a grin.  
“I never thought that you’d come into my life, then you did like a hurricane. You turned my world upside down, Sherlock. I love you like a son. Then you meet John-” Mrs. H teared up a bit. “I’m just happy for you.”  
“Don’t be indecent.” He replied, hugging her briefly. He heard a knock on the door. “That’ll be Mycroft.” He told John before shouting “Come in!” Mycroft entered with his friend.  
“Just waiting for Mike!” John pointed out, excitedly.  
Mycroft look over his brother, then motioned with his head. Sherlock walked over to his side. Mycroft didn’t say anything, but wrapped his arms around his shoulders. “Are you sure?” He whispered. “You’re getting involved.  
“Beyond sure, blood.” He replied. He was surprised, but hugged him back. “Is this support?”  
“As much as I’m able.”  
Sherlock nodded, then turned back to John. “Mike won’t come. He missed your last wedding.”  
“Oy!” John said.  
“It’s true!” Sherlock grumbled, tickling Rosie.  
A knock on the door, and a minute later Mike Stamford entered.  
“Hi Mike!” John smiled. “We’re all here!”  
“Hi John! Hi Rosie! Holmes.” He nodded at the tall man. John lunged at him and hugged him.  
The official cleared his throat, “It’s just a simple matter of a few signatures. Shall we crack on?” He held the form out to Sherlock, who signed where appointed. John copied him, then watched as Mike and Mrs. H signed. The Justice of Peace added his signature where appropriate.  
“We’re married!” John breathed, leaning into Sherlock. “As your husband, I request that you kiss me.” Sherlock complied happily. “Dear me!” John exclaimed.  
“John, I hate to dash.” Mike started. “But Mum’s not well.”  
“Thank you so much, Mike.” John hugged him again. “This means the world to me.”  
“Holmes.” Mike nodded and took his leave.  
“Mycroft.” John looked at him. “You’re excused.”  
Sherlock laughed, then followed Rosie into the kitchen. “You heard my husband.”  
Typically John would correct Sherlock when he was being rude, but this time John was being rude. No wonder Sherlock was constantly rude. It was fun! “Would you like a cuppa, Mrs H?”  
“I’ll make the tea, John.” Mrs. H said, hustling off to the kitchen wiping tears away from her eyes again.  
“Husband mine! Come join me on the couch!” John giggled. “Husband! Sherl! You’re my husband!”  
“John Watson, I’ve always been yours. It’s just legal now. You can’t deny me!” Sherlock flopped down on the couch next to John, and snuggled in his arm.  
“Oh my god!” John groaned. “Don’t you dare get arrested!”  
“You’ll bail me out.” Sherlock said, eyeing Mycroft. “My husband has asked you to go. Please do.” He sounded calm. John wondered if that was from his snuggle, but didn’t really care because Sherlock was his husband. “Myc, I did get involved, but with John only. I need him to survive.”  
Mycroft sighed. “You know where to find me when you are bored.”  
Sherlock laughed. “You know the way out!”  
John snuggled closer to Sherlock. “Have I mentioned how absolutely delicious you look?”  
“You have not.”  
“Well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you look like the dessert end of a buffet table. I want to throw you down and lick and lick and lick you until-”  
“John Watson!” Mrs. H scolded. “I don’t need to hear your smut.”  
Sherlock blushed scarlett. John giggled. “Ta, Mrs. H.” He held his hand out for his tea.  
“I’m not your maid!” She tried, but couldn’t manage the malice needed. “That daughter of yours. She’s such a bad egg. Touching stuff she shouldn’t.”  
“Hullo?” Sherlock’s mum called opening the door. “Daddy and Mummy are here!”  
“Come in, Mum!” John said, sitting up straight. He nudged Sherlock’s arm off him. “Behave yourself, Sherl!” He hissed.  
“I need to behave?” Sherlock asked. He huffed and stood up. He went to his violin and started playing something happy.  
“Martha!” Mr. Holmes boomed, smiling. “It’s lovely to see you!” He hugged her, then hugged his son while he played his violin.  
There was a discordant sound, and a “Dad!” of frustration.  
“A man gets married and is too big to hug his father!” Mr. Holmes complained.  
“I was playing my violin!” he defended himself.  
“John, dear.” Mrs. Holmes greeted him with a hug. “My son in law!”  
“Dad?” Sherlock said, placing his violin down carefully. “Do you have it?” Dad handed Sherlock a small, black, crushed velvet box. Sherlock snatched it from his dad and took it over to his husband. “For you, my love.”  
John looked at him, quizzically, but opened the little box. Inside was two gold bands. John plucked one out of the box. It said “hungry?” he slid it on his ring finger. It fit perfectly. He pulled the other one out of the box and studied it. It said “starving” and could only belong to Sherlock. John picked up his husband’s hand and slid it on.  
Sherlock watched as (His!!!!) John slid a wedding band on his hand. Suddenly, he felt overwhelmed with love for John Watson. He pulled the shorter man to him. He felt traitorous tears well up and fall down his cheeks. John slipped his arms around Sherlock, and sighed happily. John kissed the tip of Sherlock’s nose with a whispered, “My dear Sherlock, I am yours.”  
“Boring.” Sherlock tried to sound bored as he tried to stop himself from crying.  
“Capitol try, my love.” John laughed. Sherlock held him tighter and tried to bury his head in John’s neck. “Hey, pull yourself together. Someone may see you have emotions.”  
“Sherl’s always been more emotional than Myc. Where is he?”  
“He was here, earlier, but excused himself.” John said, politely as Sherlock wiped his eyes.  
“Papa! Papa!” Rosie called, rooming up to Sherlock holding her plush bacteria up. Sherlock bent over and pick her up.  
“What bacteria is that?”  
“Coli!” Rosie grinned, shaking it.  
“Very good!” Sherlock purred.  
“Oh, Sherlock!” Mrs. H sighed. “At least it’s not that horrid brain eating amoeba!”  
A knock on the door interrupted Sherlock before he could respond. Molly and Greg entered the apartment.  
“Hey guys!” John said, walking over to hug them.  
“Why don’t you guys come in?” Sherlock asked. “Have a seat!”  
“Greg, Molly.” John said. “The brunette couple are Sherlock’s Mum and Dad.”  
Rosie wiggled away from Sherlock to run over to Greg. He picked her up, and kissed her head. “Graham!”  
“It’s Greg.” He corrected, absentmindedly.  
There was a timid knock, and Harry was in the room. John hugged his sister. “You came!” he exclaimed, happily.  
“You invited me!” She pointed out.  
“Everyone, This is my sister, Harry!” John grinned. “Sister Harry, this is everyone. Greg, Molly, Mum, Dad, Mrs. H. Greg is holding your niece. This man.” John held his hand out to Sherlock who took it. John pulled him closer. “Is my Sherlock Holmes.”  
“Very nice to meet you all.” Harry smiled, politely. “John. I’m not sure why I’m here.”  
“Because dear Harry! Today is a celebration.”  
“John and I got married!” Sherlock burst out, not able to hide it.  
“Congrats, mate!” Greg grinned at him.  
“Oh!” Molly smiled, truly happy if not a little sad for herself. “Many happy returns!”  
“Johnny!” Harry squealed, wrapping her arms around the two men. “I always knew you were a gaymo!”  
“I’m not gay!” He protested, as he held hands with a grown man.  
“The lady doth protest too much.” Dad quipped as everyone laughed.


	4. Chapter 4

The lunch went very well. Everyone played nicely. Sherlock was excited about his simple wedding cake. It was a small 2 layered cake. It was decorated with honey bees and a hive. Sherlock kept looking over at it. It was a spice cake with buttercream frosting. It was the sweetest tasting cake John had ever eaten, but seeing the joy on Sherlock’s face made it perfect.  
After the cake, and a few tunes on the violin, the party broke up. Mum and Dad left first. Then Mrs. H. Harry left shortly after making promises to come visit again.  
“John, mate!” Greg grinned when it was just the two of them. “It took you long enough.”  
“Apparently I’m an idiot.” John grinned.  
“Mols thought something was up. She figured out that you two were together. Not in the marriage part.”  
“Mols.” John smirked. “I bet that’s what you call her-”  
“Oi!” Greg grinned. “We are a couple. I didn’t lie about that.”  
“Lucky bastard.” John smiled.  
“Sherlock figured it out. I thought he told you.”  
“He loves to tell us his deductions when no one’s listening.” John shrugged. “Rosie might have been listening.”  
“Do you think you’ve found wedded bliss?”  
“I hope so.” John smiled. “There’s so many changes at Baker Street, but they are all for the better. No drugs. No booze. No fun.”  
“I’ll text you in a few weeks about going out for a beer.”  
“Sounds good. I may need some time off from Sherlock.”  
Greg laughed. “Molly asked me to help with Rosie this week.  
“Ta Greg.” John smiled. “Just try to ignore the schedules Sherlock created. I mean, you can follow them, but they are insanely complicated and long winded.”  
“He’s really coming around to being a dad?”  
“Yeah, he loves it. Says it’s a better high than when he’d solve a tough case. My husband.” John laughed, and grinned. “My freaking husband loves being a dad.”  
“I’d like to say I’m shocked, but well, Sherlock is a surprising man.”  
“Hey,” John said. “If you need to get a hold of us, for Rosie related things only, contact Mrs. H. I plan on keeping my mister very busy.”  
“Oh geeze.” Greg said, good naturedly. Sherlock reappeared carrying a rucksack, Rosie, and talking a mile a minute to Molly.  
“You ready, Greg?” Molly asked, trying to end the conversation with Sherlock.  
“Yeah, John. Ta.” Greg stood up to put his glass in the sink. He grabbed Rosie from Sherlock and Molly grabbed the rucksack.  
“You call your papa if nasty Graham is mean to you.” Sherlock leaned over and kissed Rosie’s head. “Goodbye my girl. I love you.”  
John stood up and kissed Rosie’s head. “Goodbye my sweetheart. Daddy loves you.”  
“Bye, bye!” Rosie said, snuggling into Greg.  
“John, please use precise language when talking to our daughter. “I” is the perfect-”  
“Sherlock.” John countered. “I am her father. I can call myself what the bloody ever I want.”  
“No baby talk!” Sherlock whined.  
“Ok, Greg. That’s our cue to go.” Molly said, trying to push him out the door.  
“Not yet. I want to see John flatten his new groom.” Molly pushed him again.  
“Go.” She commanded. She shut the door after her boyfriend and Rosie.  
“Alone at last, husband mine.” John grinned. He locked the door. “Hey, you ok?”  
“What? Oh yes! I was just wondering if I packed enough microcrobes.”  
“Sherlock. I promise you. She’ll be fine. Besides, Molly bought her a lot of science toys before you came along.”  
“But! E. Coli is her favorite.”  
“Yes, dear.” John smiled, looking Sherlock up and down hungrily. He pulled his own jacket off. “I don’t know how you wear this get up everyday.” John pulled one sock off, then the other. He threw them into a pile. Then turned his attention to the buttons on his shirt and pulled it off. He watched Sherlock’s eyes on his body. Sherlock drank him in. John unbuckled his trousers. He locked eyes with Sherlock as he slowly pulled them off. He added them to his suit pile. “Finally, I’m comfortable.” John said, wiggling his toes, and placing his hands on his hips.  
“You look better than I remember. Something must have happened when I uploaded your image. Some corruption.”  
John smiled, pulling him close. John started working Sherlock’s tie loose, before pulling it off. He grabbed the jacket and worked it off. Sherlock was too busy studying John’s face to notice. John unbuttoned Sherlock’s dress shirt and pushed it off. John’s eyes darted all over Sherlock’s chest. His hands started exploring Sherlock’s upper body. Touching each scar, then it was too hard to just look. He found a larger one, and kissed it. “Thank you.” John murmured. “For all you do- did-do for us.”  
“It was nothing.” Sherlock dismissed his words. “Anything for my Watsons.”  
“It was everything!” John insisted, nibbling on the edge of a really thick scar. “You should be shirtless more often. You are a god, Sherlock.”  
“No.” Sherlock argued, sounding more breathey than angry. “I’m only human.”  
John continued to inspect and kiss scars gratefully. “Want to remove those trousers? I’m a little busy.” He left his hands roam all over his lover’s chest and back.  
“I’m” Sherlock blushed, feeling John’s hands everywhere. “I’m not wearing pants.”  
“Oh, you naughty devil!” John groaned, gently nibbling another scar. Sherlock moaned, enjoying John’s mouth.  
“I got fat, John. My pants are too tight.”  
“I plan on getting fat too.” John said. “Now, please remove your trousers.”  
“Can we go to bed?”  
“Mine.” John claimed, pushing him to his own spartan room. Shyly Sherlock looked around, idly removing his trousers. John watched him eagerly, wanting to touch and kiss every centimeter of his husband. “God Sherl.” John groaned. “You’re gorgeous.”  
“John.” Sherlock whined. “You’re wearing too much clothing.”  
John laughed, then removed his underwear. Sherlock greedily eyed John, but remained where he stood. “Sherlock, sit on the bed with me.” John sat down on the bed, indian style. Sherlock sat facing John, his leg on either side of John almost touching him.  
“I’m nervous.” Sherlock announced. “I’ve waited for this. Craved it. Dreamed about it.”  
“Well, love. I am too.”  
“Don’t tease me!” Sherlock said, “you’re the one with sexual experience.”  
“Right. Sex with women.” John paused. “Unless you’re talking about my experience as a doctor, but that really doesn’t count.”  
“I really don’t know what I was talking about. I’m too nervous to think straight.”  
“Well.” John laughed. “You aren’t really straight. So, in an attempt to negate your nerves, tell me what you like about what we’ve done.”  
“I like kissing you.”  
“I love kissing you.” John smiled kindly at Sherlock. It was almost cute to see him so nervous. “You know we don’t have to do anything.”  
“I want to do everything.”  
John looked at him, and took his hand. “What exactly are you nervous about?”  
“Disappointing you.”  
“I’m worried that I’ll disappoint you.”  
“You could never!” Sherlock said in horror, taking John’s other hand.  
“I could! I’m new to this. I’m older than you which means I can’t go all night.” John said, musingly. “I couldn’t even go more than once.”  
“I don’t want that. I just want your happiness.”  
“That’s all I want for you, too. Have you ever slept in someone’s arms?”  
“No.” Sherlock managed to answer, wading through all his thoughts. He was starting to feel overwhelmed by everything. John was gorgeous in clothing and now he was naked. Sherlock wanted to memorize every millimeter of him. John called him a god when he was naked. He wanted to remember everything.  
“Hey.” John said. “Stay with me, Sherl.”  
“Sorry, John.”  
“There is nothing better than sleeping in your spouse’s arms. Hearing them lightly snore, feel their body warmth. Someone to wake you up when you have a nightmare.”  
“I’m not sleepy.”  
“I’m just telling you that if we don’t have sex tonight, we can have intimacy.”  
“Oh, we can’t have both?”  
“Of course we can, love. This is our relationship.” John said, trying to get Sherlock to keep talking. “So what did you like about what we’ve done already?”  
“The way your lips feel on my scars.” Sherlock grinned. “I also like when you look at me. It’s like you’re really seeing me.”  
“I really enjoy seeing you and listening to you.”  
“Oh! When you put your lips on me.”  
“I like that too.” John smiled.  
“I’m smart, you know. I know ash.” Sherlock smiled. “But this I don’t know. There’s so many questions.”  
“Like what, my love?”  
“Like how long do I kiss you? When we do move on? Who sets the timer?”  
“What timer?”  
“The timer that tells us when to go on the next part.”  
“Oh, Sherl. There’s no timer. We judge by your body and when it tells us it’s ready to move on.”  
“Oh, that’s logical.”  
John smiled. Sherlock was many things and on this front he was innocent as the day was long. It was adorable. “Love, are you ok?” John asked, nervously.  
Sherlock shook his head. “Can we get dressed and get dumplings? I’ve got so much in my head and you’re so distracting.”  
“Of course we can love.” John said, leaning into kiss Sherlock. Sherlock made a chaste kiss, but John wasn’t satisfied. He deepened it, leaving Sherlock a bit breathless and stupid when he pulled away. “Thank you for telling me what you need.”  
“Mmm.” Sherlock replied, his brain sluggish.  
“Go get PJs on.” John encouraged, standing up off the bed.  
“Wait!” Sherlock said, finally feeling his brain speed up. Sherlock hastened off the bed and went to his bedroom. “I know I said “no sentiment” but. Well. Rosie and I were at the store. Anyways.” Sherlock shoved a gift wrapped box to John. He looked at it grinning. John settled back on the bed with his gift.  
“If I’d known you’d be so giftish, I’d have marry you years ago.”  
“Oh, this is stupid!” Sherlock complained.  
“Hush. I’m opening my present.” John opened the box to a t-shirt that said “I’m his!” and a pair of blue plaid PJ pants. “Sherlock!” John exclaimed, tearing up. “Thank you!” John rushed to put them on. “Where are yours?”  
“Ugh. Seriously, John? They-”  
“You did buy yourself a set.” John stated.  
Sherlock groaned. “I look ridiculous!”  
“Go. put. Them. on.”  
Sherlock walked into his room again, grumbling. John went out to the living room. “Wanna snuggle?” John called.  
“Yes, please!” Sherlock said. John turned on some of Sherlock’s violin music and pushed the couch over to the window. Sherlock came into the room, and cleared his throat. John looked over Sherlock. He didn’t look ridiculous at all. He looked adorable. His pajamas were exactly the same as John’s, but Sherlock looked so much better than he did in them. “You look good! Come snuggle me! You can deduct strangers while I adore you.”  
Sherlock flopped down on the couch next to John. “It’s so quiet without our girl.” Sherlock stated, snuggling into John. “I miss our daughter.”  
“Me too.” John smiled, as he ordered the dinner on Sherlock’s mobile phone. “Oh! Tuesday night. I got tickets to the orchestra-”  
“Who’s conducting?”  
“Uh.”  
“Who’s first chair for violin?”  
“Probably that guy you hate.”  
“He screeches, John.” Sherlock said, as if it was obvious to everyone, not just him.  
“I know, husband mine.”  
“And I know he could be decent-”  
“So, will you join me?” John interrupted him.  
“Absolutely. Better that violin butcherer than dealing with a crime scene processed by Anderson.” 

The evening passed quietly. Small talk, good music, a lot of deductions, and decent take out. The only snag in the evening was when John mentioned bed. Sherlock nearly threw a tantrum because he wanted to stay in John’s arms.  
“Sherl.” John sighed. “Instead of throwing a fit, why don’t you say, “John, join me in bed!” Like you did earlier with the PJs and the dumplings.”  
“Ok, John.” Sherlock sighed. “I’m trying, John. Will you sleep with me tonight?”  
“Absolutely my love. Your bed or mine?”  
“Mine. It’s bigger, but I haven’t slept in it-”  
“Let’s go then.” John followed Sherlock across the small apartment to Sherlock’s bedroom. Sherlock dashed out of the room and reappeared less than 1 minute later.  
“I check the door sometimes.”  
“That’s not a bad thing.” John smiled. “I doubt you would have done this 6 months ago.”  
“I would not have. I didn’t have my Watsons here.” Sherlock smiled. He undressed, looking a little nervous. “Are you sure this is ok?”  
“Yes or are you talking about you sleeping naked?”  
“Sleeping.”  
“Beyond ok.” John smiled, stripping down himself. “So, big spoon or little spoon?”  
“I. I don’t understand.”  
“Do you want me to hold you or you to hold me?”  
“I’ll hold you, my husband.”  
John crawled into Sherlock’s bed and felt Sherlock crawl in behind him. Sherlock leaned in close. “Thank you for understanding my weird brain.:  
John tried to reply, but fell asleep before he could.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so if you don't want to read a pathetic attempt at writing male slash, skip this chapter. As it is just some sex and an ending. I have 2 more little parentlock ficlets that I'll post too, but for now! Last chapter.

Bits of earth and loud noises enveloped John. He was wearing his too tight, scratchy uniform. Warm heat everywhere. His heart beat rapidly. Pain spread down from his shoulder. He placed his hand there and it was wet. Blood. John groaned, and tried to shift his shoulder. Pain. He tried to remember laying in Sherlock’s arms. His light breathing in his ear. He couldn’t get back there. He was still there, wasn’t he? This had to be a nightmare.   
Sherlock awoke to John’s thrashing body. He looked over John and could feel the panic rising in himself. “John!! Hey. Wake up!”   
John feel the warm air crowd around him. The wound oozed and pulsed. John tried to grab the bed that must be under him. His hand just hit rock.   
No response from John. He felt John’s fist hit his chest. Sherlock groaned for a second, allowing his mind to come up with a solution. He caught his breath and jumped out of bed. He snagged his violin and started playing the Waston’s Waltz he wrote for Mary and John. He hoped that the scholarly paper on the transportive ability of music in PTSD patients was an accurate one.   
John heard the notes of the waltz. It was such a familiar tune. It disturbed the auditory assault of explosions. John clung to the notes. Pressing them into his gray matter. He felt the air cool. The ground under him softened to his husband’s bed. His breathing evened out.   
Sherlock assessed him while he repeated the waltz. He was no longer thrashing, panting, or moaning. After he finished the waltz for a second time, he placed his violin down carefully. “John.” He said tentatively, gently touching John’s hand. John grabbed Sherlock with both his hands.   
Sherlock was real! He wasn’t getting shot at. John tried to speak, but no words would come out. He couldn’t even open his eyes.   
“You’re ok my darling boy.” Sherlock said, kissing John’s hands. “You’re safe. You’re home.” He watched as the confusion cleared from John’s face. “There are your gorgeous eyes again. Welcome back, love.”   
“It was horrible Sherl- I couldn’t convince myself I was safe. I felt my shoulder bleeding-“ John touched his shoulder. His hand again wet with sweat. John took a big calming breathe. He thought about how he had returned home. “You beautiful, impossible man!” John exclaimed, hugging Sherlock.   
Sherlock cleared his throat. “I just had a theory. That’s all. I read an article about PTSD stress nightmares.” John gave him a defiant look. “You aren’t the only one who has PTSD. I do too. So I read about it. In the article, it suggested that some trials with music have shown to decrease nightmares. Logically it follows, if I play my violin, John will stop having nightmares.”  
“Logically, you cock.” John placed both hands on either side of Sherlock’s face and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were sweeter than any drink on a hot day.   
“It was a simple experiment, John. I took a theory and applied it. In theory, any simpleton could have done it. Anderson for example. Just not as beautiful or masterfully.”   
“It’s so sexy when you’re humble.” John grinned, pulling Sherlock down to him.   
“Humility is not a virtue. If I were humble, I never would have created my own job!” Sherlock tried to sneer, but John had started nipping and kissing down Sherlock’s jaw and throat. Sherlock hummed his approval, then started off again. “I’m very smart you know. I know ash. 24-“ Sherlock cut himself off with a gasp as John worked his magic. “243 types. I can tell you the make-“  
John nipped at Sherlock’s throat. “Husband mine do shut up.”  
Sherlock groaned and grinned at the same time. He pushed John back on the bed. Sherlock started at John’s left knee and began to kiss and bite his way up John’s body. John groaned with lust as Sherlock carefully avoided his groin. He kissed along the light blonde happy trail of hair on his lover’s tummy. He kissed and nipped up his chest to his neck and throat. Leaving a trail of slight bruising in his wake. He kissed gentle teasing kisses along John’s jaw. Finally, the prize which Sherlock had been pursuing. John’s gorgeous lips. He kissed them chastely, but when he went to deepen the kiss, he felt two strong hands on his chest pushing him away. “No! No! No! Stop!” John cried, panic overtaking him. Sherlock stood up and held his hands up and took a step back. John scooted away from Sherlock. “I’m sorry!” He panted. He moved his fingers in a counting motion and took ten deep breaths. “You were too close.” John tilted his head to the side to suggest that he wasn’t being precise enough. “Ever since you pulled me out of the bonfire, I feel- I get weird about -”  
“Bottoming.” Sherlock interjected innocently.  
“How do you understand that, but not spooning?”  
“I read it somewhere and the mind palace stored it somewhere in your rooms.” Sherlock shrugged, sitting next to him. “Would you like to continue?” John nodded, looking Sherlock over. “Would you like to be on top?”  
John grinned at me, and nodded. Sherlock scooted back, and watched in astonishment as John climbed up on him. “You are the sexiest man alive.” Sherlock said, drinking in John’s body. He ran his hands through Sherlock’s curls.   
“Are you going to start talking again?”   
“Yes, I am. This time all about how fucking delectable you are.”  
John carded his fingers through Sherlock’s curls, letting his fingers run along his neck and shoulders. “Maybe you should devour me, instead of describe me.”  
Sherlock smirked, and leaned in to kiss John, but stopped just before making contact. “Are you sure you’re ok?”  
In response, John closed the gap and teasingly nipped at Sherlock’s lips before kissing his Adam’s apple.   
“No,” he groaned as he felt teeth on the nape of his neck. “My lips, Joooohn.” John just kissed down his chest in response. His bottom rocked back into Sherlock’s hardening erection. He gasped, enjoying the pleasure he felt coming off his lover. John shook his head to clear the thoughts of actually riding Sherlock one day. He instead turned to Sherlock’s right nipple to lick it just once. Sherlock shivered, and John began lapping at it as it hardened under his tongue. He picked up his other hand to hold it up to Sherlock.  
“Lick.” He commanded, huskily. Shyly Sherlock licked and suckled the fingers John offered to him. He pulled them free and worked on the left nipple. He rubbed and fingered it until it too stood hard. He went between then until he shifted and felt Sherlock’s erection again. He stopped all licking, touching, and torturing. He scrambled off Sherlock’s lap and knelt beside him. “Indulge me, love.” John reached out to touch Sherlock’s engorged member. John experimentally stroked it, but it felt too rough. Not good at all. “Lube?” He asked, trying to keep the embarrassment out of his voice. Sherlock fumbled with his table side drawer and pulled it out. He handed it over and tried not to complain when John removed his hand. In a minute, cold fingers wrapped around Sherlock. Again John stroked him. Slowly, but firmly. Sherlock voiced his pleasure. John very slowly, almost nervously, leaned over and tentatively licked the leaking head of Sherlock’s erection. Sherlock’s hips bounced up to John’s retreating tongue. John giggled, but licked again. This time swirling a bit. Sherlock moaned, and grabbed John’s head. John delicately opened his mouth, trying to hide his teeth thinking about the medical horror cases he had studied. Just briefly because he was eager to taste Sherlock. He slid his lips over the swollen leaking head. Experimentally he sucked. In response, he had handfuls of hair being pulled on his head.   
“Again.” Sherlock moaned, “Again, John!” He smiled at this, and tried again. He timed a stroke when he did it. John decided that had to be the best way to do it. So he stroked Sherlock’s cock while sucking delicately at the head.   
Sherlock groaned something, but John ignored it. He sped up his hand and sucked again. When he pulled back this time he pulled all the way off to catch his breath. John didn’t dodge fast enough and got hit in the face with Sherlock’s come. John looked surprised when Sherlock opened his eyes. John reached over and wiped his face clean on a bedsheet.   
“You said- I didn’t understand- I was enjoying your- you came!” John settled on.   
“I tried to warn you!” Sherlock said.   
“I know, love! I’m not mad.” John giggled. “I guess you’re just explosive.”   
“That was totally lame!” Sherlock groaned. John smiled at him before he pounced on Sherlock. He started kissing his husband and wanking himself slowly. Sherlock kissed back, for just a second. He wiggled out from John.  
“John, you sit with both feet planted on the floor.” Sherlock directed, falling off the bed in really quite a graceful manner. He recovered enough to get on his knees in front of John. Sherlock reached out to touch John’s penis but changed his mind halfway through. He leaned over and began kissing up John’s thighs. He nipped a bit too, but really enjoyed tasting John too much to use teeth very often. Sherlock listened to the verbal cues from John was eliciting. John was enjoying his mouth. Gingerly, Sherlock kissed the leaking head of his lover’s penis. Sherlock very carefully tried the swirling tongue motion that John had done so successfully on him a few minutes ago. A groan. Hands on Sherlock’s head. Sherlock opened his mouth and gently sucked at the head. John’s breathing increased and he felt tugging at his curls. Sherlock sucked , swirled his tongue. He repeated this motion, keeping John’s verbal cues in his mind too. Finally he tried his best attempt at swallowing more of John’s erection and felt John’s body shiver. Sherlock gave a hum of approval and did the suck/swallow motion he had read about.   
If John warned him, Sherlock didn’t hear it. He felt warm sticky fluid shoot down his throat. Sherlock pulled away with a pop and a slight cough. He sat back on his heels with a whine. Sherlock reached up and removed John’s hand from his hair.   
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” John said, panting.   
“It’s fine.” Sherlock giggled. “We’re a fine mess!”  
“Yes we are.” John smiled down at him. “But we’re a mess together. So husband mine. Come snuggle me.”   
Sherlock eagerly climbed up on the bed and pulled John’s prone body to him. “You were fantastic.” John said, kissing Sherlock’s hand.  
“I came on your face!” Sherlock protested.  
“No one’s ever done that before.” John pressed his body closed to Sherlock’s. Sherlock pulled the blankets up over John and himself. John tangled his feet and legs with Sherlock’s. For the first time in a very long time, Sherlock Holmes felt safe. The consulting detective had finally closed the case given to him by Mary Watson months ago. Sherlock Holmes had brought John Watson, his ever faithful blogger, home to Baker Street.   
“You’re home, John Hamish Watson.” Sherlock mumbled before he dropped off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Ummm I'm not sure what to put in notes. I don't own these characters but I can't let them out of my head either.


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